


Overcoming the Darkness

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angel, Castiel, seeks vengence on those that hurt his hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcoming the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Darker than my usual stuff....

 

**PART ONE**

They say a brain will shut itself down when there is too much trauma or pain. Dean’s didn’t. He was aware of every single thing going on and he was helpless.

***

Castiel heard Sam’s prayer and almost ignored it, because it wasn’t Dean. Sam’s prayer sounded desperate though, not a ‘hey Cas can you help us with a case’ prayer, more like panic.

“Cas, God…Dean…he’s been taken.”

Castiel was instantly alert. “Who?”

“A coven…witches…warlocks…I just gone for a second….Cas, this is the most powerful coven we’ve ever seen.”

Castiel stood in the middle of the dingy hotel room and let his senses take him to Dean. What he saw and felt dropped him to his knees.

“Cas?” Sam ran forward, but Castiel waved him away.

“I will find him.” Sam didn’t have the chance to answer because with a rustle of wings, the angel was gone.

The door to the basement was hit with a force so strong, it came off its hinges. Dean lay on a marble altar, naked…chains holding his ankles and wrists. Castiel moaned, the moan of a man in pain. His eyes quickly told him none of the witches were around.

He took off his trenchcoat and moved forward. Dean was barely conscious and Castiel’s force released the shackles for Dean’s cool, battered body. Castiel saw the blood stained thighs, the excretions of several men and his eyes burned with a hatred no angel of the lord should ever feel. He wrapped Dean’s body in his coat, knowing to the core of his being that Dean would be ashamed if he was seen like this. He was gone with his precious cargo within seconds of the splintering of the door.

When he appeared in the hotel room, Sam leapt up from the chair.

“No, Sam.” Sam stopped, too shocked to disobey.

Castiel laid Dean on one of the beds and head Dean’s jaw in his palm. He took away the pain, the injuries, but he could not take away the mental anguish that was in Dean’s unconscious mind. He could have cleaned the hunter just as easy as he healed the bruises and the tears, but he needed to bathe Dean. With a sense of reverence, Castiel took the washcloths from the restroom and wet them with warm water. He started at Dean’s hairline and worked his way down his face. The dried semen was wiped away with tenderness.

Sam paced the room. Castiel growled every time he came close to the bed. Sam finally couldn’t take it anymore and snatched up his laptop. “I’m going outside.”

Castiel didn’t acknowledge the man, but sighed in relief when he heard the door slam. The noise caused Dean to move his head to the side and whimper. Castiel murmured words in Enochian, soothing the man until he, once again, slept.

Castiel peeled his trenchcoat away and continued to bathe his hunter. When he got to Dean’s thighs, the rage was so great that his hands trembled with it. The torn anus was healed, but the blood and semen remained. Castiel did not want to think of the number of men that used Dean for their sick, twisted pleasure. They would pay.

When Dean was finally clean, Castiel lifted his limp body and pulled the sheet and bedspread down. He tucked Dean into the bed and covered him. He stepped away.

Dean told him on several occasions to stay out of his mind. Castiel respected Dean’s wishes and he had not invaded the man’s dreams or thoughts in over a year. He knew that Dean would not want this, would not want Castiel to see his dark memories, but he had to see. He had to see the men, listen to their voices, get their scent. He would hunt them and destroy them, one by one.

Castiel bowed his head, took a step forward and knelt down at his hunter’s side. His hands moved over Dean’s face, coming to rest on his temples. Castiel closed his eyes and entered Dean’s mind.

***

There were thirteen, a perfect number for a powerful coven. All men, no novices, each one of these men were older. They wore red robes, the hoods over their faces. Candles lit the room. Dean’s eyes opened, he had been drugged and was sluggish. He didn’t know where he was. His awareness gradually let him feel the chains holding him, the cold slab of marble under his naked body. He smelled brimstone and a mixture of herbs. The smoke was keeping him from being totally alert. He fought the chains, but he was weak.

“He’s awake.” The voice was deep with a New England accent.

“Good, we can begin.” This voice was slower, more pronounced, a southern dialect, perhaps from the Carolinas.

They parted their robes and Dean saw their cocks, their hands stroked themselves to full erections. Dean began to panic. He struggled and whined. He hated himself for the weak sound that came from his throat. He bit down on his lip, making it bleed. He tasted copper.

“Please.”

He heard laughter. Dean closed his eyes to block the images of the thirteen. He felt the hands spreading his thighs and fought with renewed energy. Two sets of hands held his thighs up and open. The intrusion caused him to scream. He burned and his skin tore. His body loosened on its own accord after many thrusts. He felt the wetness of tears…tears of humiliation and tears of pain. By the time the third man was taking his turn, he was wet with semen. He felt it on his thighs, felt it dripping down his ass to pool on the cold marble.

Dean was willing his mind to shut down…why wasn’t he praying for Castiel? Why? Castiel probed deeper into Dean’s subconscious.

‘Castiel can’t see me like this…weak, pathetic…he must never know. I can’t see pity in my angel’s eyes. Beautiful, blue eyes.’

Those that were too stimulated to wait their turn, ejaculated onto Dean’s face, prying his mouth open to further his humiliation. Eight men took Dean.

Castiel pulled out of Dean’s mind. Those eight would be the first to die. Their deaths would be slow and painful. Castiel stood again and walked to the door of the room.

Sam sat on the floor in the dim hallway. The laptop open. His jumped to his feet when Castiel exited the room.

“How is he?”

“Physically, he is fine. Mentally, I cannot answer your question.”

“What did they do to him, Cas?”

Castiel met his eyes and looked away. “I cannot say. It is not my place, Sam. Please understand, Dean would not want me to talk about it.”

He saw understanding dawn on Sam’s face and saw the man’s eyes fill with tears. Castiel’s hand gripped Sam’s shoulder.

“I must go. I have to hunt them and I will send them to hell.”

“I want to come with you.”

“No, you must stay with Dean. Be there when he awakes. Sam, I will be back. Tell him…tell him…”

“Tell him yourself when you get back.” Castiel nodded and was gone.

**PART TWO**

The coven was drunk on their power and drunk on wine. It would be their downfall. Castiel watched from above, using his grace to watch and not be seen. He picked out the eight and he appeared in the center of the room. They were slow to react.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I am an angel of the Lord… and your worst nightmare.” Castiel’s chin rose and with that his voice, his real voice began to rain curses down on them. Within seconds, they were writhing on the floor, holding their ears. Blood poured from their orifices. All the light bulbs shattered, the windows imploded. Castiel stood watching the thirteen.

As their brains tried to make sense out of what was happening to them, Castiel raised his face to the heavens.

“Father, Brothers, Sisters…I haven’t asked for anything in many eons. I am asking now. Shut the gates for these men. Send them to hell. They do not deserve forgiveness. I have judged them and found them guilty.”

Castiel heard the whispers in the air and knew his prayer would be answered. He went to the eight, one by one and held their heads, forcing them to look at him. Then he let them see him. They saw the angel, not the vessel. Their eyes burned into hollow blackness and Castiel let them feel the pain. The five left, those that did not commit the ultimate sin in Castiel’s eyes, were the last to die. It was painful, but not nearly as slow as the eight.

He looked at the carnage around him. “Vengeance is mine”, sayeth the Lord”.

The hotel room was dark except for the bathroom light that shone through the door that was pulled partly shut. Dean lay in the same place where Castiel had left him. In human time, Castiel was only gone thirty minutes. Sam was on the floor next to Dean’s bed, propped up against the wall, asleep. Castiel watched the rise and fall of Dean’s chest.

As in the early days, Castiel stood by Dean and watched over him. Dean stirred and his eyes opened. Castiel saw the emotions in Dean’s eyes, first confusion…shock…and finally resignation. Then he turned away from him, looking at something unseen near the window.

“Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean looked down at Sam. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“No.”

Castiel sensed Dean’s discomfort. “I healed the tears and cleaned you, so Sam did not…”

“Shut up!” The words were harsh, but whispered. Sam stirred but did not wake.

“Dean…”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Dean turned his back to Castiel. “Go. Just go, Cas.”

Castiel didn’t hesitate. Dean did not want him here.

***

Dean heard the rustle of Cas’ wings. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that they hurt. Cas saw him…he had a vague recollection of Cas being there, wrapping him in that stupid coat of his, the one that smelled like him…like cinnamon and honey. He remembered the drop of his stomach as Cas flew with him. He’d seen him…after he’d been…

He could not face Cas. He was weak…he was damaged goods now. In the last few months, he’d started to come to terms with his feelings for his angel. Now, it was over. He was tainted. Stupid to think he’d be good enough for an angel anyway. He was never good enough for his father…

Dean rolled to his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. Sam woke and listened to his older brother’s muffled sobs. He slipped out of the hotel room and once again sank to the floor in the hall.

“Cas…Cas?”

“Hello, Sam.”

“He’s awake.”

“Yes.”

“Did you…are they…”

“I made them suffer for their transgressions. They are dead and will suffer in the pit of hell for eternity.”

“Thank you, Cas.”

“I must go now. Dean doesn’t want me here.”

“What? What do you mean? Dean needs you.”

“No, he doesn’t want or need me. Please take care of him, Sam.”

“Cas…” but Sam was talking to an empty place.

***

Sam let himself in the room. Dean was still. Too still. Sam knew he was awake.

“Dean?”

“I’m tired, Sam. Just need to sleep.”

“Cas thinks you don’t want him here.”

“I don’t.”

Something in Sam snapped, the last few hours…the fear of not knowing if Dean was dead or alive, then seeing him in Cas’ arms, the awareness of what happened to him…his hand flipped the light switch, flooding the room with fluorescent light.

“Your angel found you and brought you here. I watched him heal you, clean you…then when he knew you weren’t hurting anymore, he hunted, Dean. He hunted those…those monsters and killed them. I’ve seen Cas pissed off, but before he left to go after those bastards, he was beyond that, Dean. It was like sparks were coming off him. He told me that he sent them to hell, Dean.”

“So what?” Dean muttered.

“So what? So, Cas is an angel…he believes in forgiveness for sins…Dean…to send them to hell means he had to ask…”

“I’m glad he sent them to hell…but that doesn’t change anything, Sam.”

“He loves you.”

“He loves humanity, Sam. He just thinks I’m someone that heaven has a purpose for, shows what the guy upstairs knows, huh?”

“No, Dean. He loves you.”

“Fuck you, Sam.”

“He won’t come back unless you ask.”

“I’m not asking. Just leave it, Sam. Please, just leave it.” Dean turned to the wall and huddled under the covers.

Dean heard Sam rustling around and finally he knew his brother was in the other bed. He waited, listening intently for his brother to sleep.

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom and shut the door. In the glare of the harsh light, Dean looked at his image in the mirror. He was still naked. He looked the same. His hands moved down his body, not sexually, not arousing in any way…he got to his hips and stopped. He turned away and started the shower.

The spray was so hot it burned, but Dean endured and he scrubbed every inch of skin. The tears fell, blending with the water. His body had betrayed him…he knew it was a matter of simple biology…enough stimulation to the prostate and a man got hard…more stimulation and a man could come. No. No, a man came when he was enjoying it, this was just ejaculation. Biology.

His skin was bright pink when he finally got out. He wrapped the towel around himself and made his way through the darkened room to his duffle. By feel alone, he found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. After putting them on, he found his flask. It was half full, only a few good swallows. He’d need more.

The morning was at its end when Dean awoke again. Sam was at the table on his laptop.

“Morning.” Dean mumbled. He sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

“I’ve found a few things you need to read. They’ll help with…with your situation.”

“My situation? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This guy is a psychologist and he treats men who’ve been raped. I really think….”

“No!” Dean clinched his fists. “Shut up…shut up…shut up.” Dean covered his ears like a child, eyes wild.

Sam stood up and went to him. “Dean, you were raped.”

“Nonononono.” Dean was shaking his head, hands still pressed to his ears.

“I’m sorry.” Sam wrapped him in his arms and held tight. Dean fought for a full minute and it took everything Sam had to hold onto him. Eventually, Dean calmed down, but Sam continued to hold him. He’d spent the entire morning reading and felt like he understood to a small degree what Dean was going through. He’d read interviews of victims and while he didn’t think their stories were nearly as traumatic as being gang raped by a coven of witches, he felt their pain, their feelings of self hatred and their need to push loved ones away.

Eventually, Dean nudged Sam chest and this time, Sam let him go. “I don’t need to talk to anyone, Sam. Not anyone. Not you, not Cas and there’s no fucking way I’m talking to some shrink.”

“I love you, Dean.” Sam said the only thing he knew to show Dean how serious he thought this situation was.

Dean looked at him for a few seconds and then cut his eyes away.

“I know you do.”

Dean seemed to throw off his mood and he gave Sam a halfhearted smile. “Hey, let’s find us a monster to gank and blow this town.”

“Dean…”

“No, Sam…I need to get away from here. I gotta hunt something.”

Sam’s look was one of pity and anger flared inside of Dean, but he tamped it down. He had to show Sam he was okay…because he was…okay.

They left that night for Demopolis, Alabama, a small town that had two disappearances and several sightings of a Bigfoot-like creature. Dean drove with the music blaring, removing any chance of conversation. Dean sang with the music, grinning at Sam on occasion. He was okay. He just needed to kill a couple of monsters and his life would be back to normal.

**PART THREE**

A month went by; they drove from town to town following leads and hunting things. It was during the last part of the fourth week that Sam whipped the half empty bottle from Dean’s hand.

“What the fuck, Dude?”

“What the fuck? Really, Dean? You almost got me killed. That shifter had its fucking hands around my neck! Your reflexes are shit right now. You were drunk, Dean.”

“I ganked him, Sam. You’re fuckin’ alive.” Dean tried to grab for the bottle.

“I don’t want to hunt with you anymore. Not until you dry out. I can’t trust you.”

“Fine. Fuck you, Sam. Just fuckin’ go. I’ll hunt on my own. I’ve done it before. Go! Just go!”

Sam threw the bottle against the wall and Dean winced as it broke, leaving a large discolored stain on the pale green paint.

Dean turned away so he would have to watch his brother pack his few belongings and after he heard the slam of the hotel room door, he hung his head. Then he heard the Impala start.

“No.” Dean ran to the door and swung it open, just in time to see his baby’s taillights disappearing out of the parking lot. He kicked at the curb in anger.

Back inside the room, he found further evidence of his brother’s betrayal. His wallet, his cell phones and his car were gone. He was left with his clothes, toiletries, a knife and a pistol.

“Damn you, Sam.” Dean paced the room. Anger finally gave way to a sense of sadness. He’d shoved everyone that cared about him away. First Cas, now Sam.

He fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was letting them win, playing the victim. Dean Winchester wasn’t a victim. Dean Winchester had two people who…loved him…cared if he lived or died…and he pushed them away.

“Cas…” The name came out as a cry, his voice cracked and he wiped at the tear with the heel of his hand.

“Hello, Dean.” Dean looked up, eyes glistening with tears he refused to shed. Cas stood in the middle of the room, wearing that stupid trenchcoat…

“I never thanked you.”

“You do not need to thank me, Dean.”

“You saved my life. You killed…Sam told me what you...” Dean’s words stopped in his throat. Cas’ eyes were glowing an intense blue. “Cas…are you…okay?”

“I avenged your honor, Dean. I found you, healed you, bathed you, avenged you, loved you…and you sent me away.”

Dean broke the stare first. His shoulders hunched forward, hands in his pockets. “I’m fucked up, Cas. I was fucked up before…before, but now I just don’t think I’m salvageable…”

Suddenly, Dean’s face cleared…”Wait…what did you say?”

“I said you sent me away.”

“No, before that.”

Cas looked perplexed, Dean could almost see his thought process. “I avenged your honor…”

“You said you loved me. You’ve never said those words before.”

“I never realized I could feel that human emotion before.”

“You used the past tense.” Dean’s words were whispered.

Cas simply stared, head cocked to one side in the way that Dean found…he wasn’t sure, but he knew it was Cas’ way and he loved it.

“I loved you 29 days ago, it is the right tense to use. I love you today, that too, is the correct tense...”

“Even after the…what happened to me.”

“Why would an event such as that change my feelings?”

“I was assaulted…” Dean still could not make himself say that other word. “Loving someone, wanting a relationship with someone means someone wants to get laid, Cas. Christ Almighty, I’ve never even thought about having sex with a man before, but I was coming to terms with it. I was curious and wondered what it would be like to kiss you…and then…and then those witches…”

“Did any of them kiss you, Dean?”

“What?” Dean stared at him in shock. “Fuck no, why would you ask that?”

“Then you can still kiss me without bad memories happening.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth came up the slightest bit, if you weren’t looking, you would have missed it. Cas didn’t miss it. “Would you like to try a kiss, Dean?”

“Cas, I can’t promise I’ll ever be able to…have sex…with you. You might want to rethink this.”

“I’ve gone without sex for thousands of years, Dean. I can wait for you. If you don’t have the desire to touch me intimately, it would be acceptable. I just want you to know you are loved and wanted.”

Dean took a step. Then another. “Cas.” He closed his eyes and let his lips touch his angel’s. As far as kisses went, Dean had more passionate ones, but he didn’t think he’d ever had one with more feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who like my stuff, I've created a FB group page. I'll post my stuff there and you can give me prompts. https://www.facebook.com/groups/550258875175871/


End file.
